


Working Title: We’ll Regret This, My Lady

by Seraphym



Series: Love Song for a Liar [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Early Days, F/M, Kissing, Light Angst, Secretly a Virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphym/pseuds/Seraphym
Summary: Blackwall has had time to think. He shows up in Maighread Cadash’s quarters, still conflicted until the sight of her dissolves whatever will he had left and he kisses her... he kisses her alot. But Blackwall isn’t the only one with a few unmentioned details in their background. Maighread is going to have to come clean sooner or later, because she won’t trap Blackwall with a lie.
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Cadash, Blackwall/Female Inquisitor
Series: Love Song for a Liar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717555
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Working Title: We’ll Regret This, My Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this chapter or whatever it’s going to be is a mess, but it’s a legible mess. I’m hoping to find a beta soon and when I do, I will clean this up and make it look better. But I just had to get it out there because I haven’t posted anything in two years and I need to get my ass back in the saddle.

Maighread paced in her quarters, the spacious room feeling small for the first time since she’d arrived at Skyhold. The fire roared, casting shadows behind her as she crossed the room yet again. All the balcony doors were open wide to the night air, but her chest still felt tight. She couldn’t stop thinking about that day, standing in the pouring rain on the Storm Coast among the fragmented ruin of Blackwall’s past. What he had shared with her, what they had talked about.

Had she really imagined what she thought she felt from him? He’d said he was fond of her at one point, and even though he’d said he couldn’t think of her that way, she couldn’t help but care for him. Want him. Today she had been as frank as she dared to be, trying to express how she felt by saying outright that maybe they were perfect for each other. And he’d thought she was teasing. 

Stone damn it all, she needed air. She turned to go on to the balcony and froze.

Blackwall. He was leaning against the French door frame, feet casually crossed. For a moment, he looked different. More… himself, somehow. Maighread’s heart bumped crazily against her ribs at the sight of him. She wanted to tell him… tell him everything. She wanted _him_. But instead, she fell back on the joking tone she’d used with him ever since he rebuffed her those scant months ago. 

“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” she beamed at him. At least pretending to joke meant she didn’t have to try to hide her smile at seeing him again. 

“Ugh,” he sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “No, I couldn’t. If only you knew how confounding you are, how impossibly infuriating.”

Maighread couldn’t stop smiling. Infuriating, was she? Well, if it got his attention…

Blackwall straightened and stepped toward her, saying he wanted to thank her for accompanying him to the ruin, he wanted to... He hadn't meant to keep walking... Hadn't meant for his heart to come tumbling out of his mouth... "I just had to see you..." But he also hadn't expected to see her smile... Or the genuine warmth in her eyes... When he got to her, she didn't step back, didn't look away, only drew a sharp breath as Blackwall reached her and took her lips in one motion. He hadn't meant to, but once he was kissing her, once he had her mouth under his, he couldn't imagine having done anything else. 

But then the guilt… that stabbing guilt, and he couldn’t… he broke the kiss. 

“No. This is wrong, I- I shouldn’t even be here.”

Maighread was breathless, overcome. He’d kissed her… he’d kissed her with that beautiful mouth, and oh, it felt more wonderful than she could have imagined. His words rang in her ears as she tried to make sense of them. 

“It doesn’t feel wrong,” she said. Please, she thought. 

_Those steady green eyes of hers, he thought. Everything she is, everything she believes and thinks, it’s all right there. He’d be a fool to walk away from this. He’d be a monster if he didn’t._

“I want to give in,” he began. Maighread’s breath hitched in her lungs. She prayed. _Stone… please. Please.._

“I want to, Maighread, Maker knows how much I wish I could. But I’m not what you want. I could never be what you deserve.”

She couldn’t understand what he meant. And his continued rejection, especially after admitting how he felt… it bruised her. 

“How could you know whether you’re what I want? You’ve never given me the chance to tell you… even when I’ve tried, you’ve dismissed me out of hand. Don’t pretend you know what I want,” she lashed the words at him like a whip. “As for what I deserve… you’re wrong. You’re a good man.”

“Am I?” he asked the question without hope.

Maighread’s whole heart ached. “I see it,” she said in an urgent undertone. 

“There’s nothing I can offer you. You’d have no life with me. I- I have no right to ask anything of you, no right to pursue your affections, but… I need you to end this, because I can’t,” he finished on a pained note. 

_Sweet fucking Stone. He does care for me. Maybe even wants me._ Maighread could hardly hear her own words over the rushing in her ears. 

“I’m not letting you go,” she blurted. 

Blackwall swiftly stepped forward and pulled her to him, his face bare inches from hers. His eyes blazed with desire, intent, and warning. 

“We’ll regret this, my lady,” he growled. 

Maighread pulled back just enough so he could see her face, read her need for him on it, so that he would believe her when she slowly, deliberately closed the distance and kissed the corner of that beautiful mouth, asking,

“Do you regret that?”

The hesitation vanished from his face and he came at her, around her, his tongue in her mouth and his hands behind her as he steered her to the half railing by the stairs. He pinned her there, his kiss growing fervent and demanding. Maighread clung to the heavy quilting of his coat, her body responding of its own accord. Her mouth was _his_ , pliant, willing, eager, and he claimed it again and again, until his raging hard-on strained painfully against his clothes. He broke the kiss then, removing his gloves, unbuckling the outer strap on his tunic to give some relief to his erection. 

Maighread’s stomach sank. She wanted him, oh _fuck_ , how she wanted him. She couldn’t though… not until she told him it would be her first time. _She_ didn’t care; she wanted him and only him. But she knew it would matter to him. She had to tell him, but how?

Maighread dipped her chin as Blackwall came close to kiss her again. The air between them was filled with their warm breath in contrast to the slight chill coming in from the open balcony doors. The sounds of their heated kisses and sharp breaths seemed to hang in her ears in the sudden stillness as he noted her hesitation, his lips barely brushing her temple as he spoke. 

“My lady?” His voice was thick with passion, but still carried concern… Her throat tightened as a tiny shiver of panic raced through her. Was she afraid he wouldn’t understand, and would reject her? 

No, she realized, she was afraid he _would_ understand and would bow out, ever the noble and responsible gentleman. She had imagined his responses a thousand times, all based on the ideas he espoused of honour and chivalry. Blackwall, despite his being a warrior, a soldier, and long estranged from the comforts of a home and family, was a gentleman to his core. She would lay money on the fact he had never taken a virgin. Such a thing to him would be reprehensible without the requisite ability to guarantee her a name, a home and a future, and he’d said he never married. 

She was certain he would never agree to be the first to bed her… and since she would never want anyone else, they would then be at an impasse. One she did not see any way of moving on from. But she would not keep it from him either. Whatever guilt he was carrying did not need the added weight of unwittingly spoiling her, however willing she may be. She wouldn’t do that to him. 

Blackwall’s fingers flexed on her hips where he grasped them. She recognized it as a gesture of encouragement, not pressure. He waited silently, patiently while her thoughts whirled. When she shook her head, unable to find any words to express her fears, he lay his lips on her upper cheek, just by her eye, in a light kiss. 

“I’ve rushed you, my lady. Forgive me; I’ve been thoughtless.” He began to release her, and Maighread’s hands flew to his collar in a vice grip. 

“No don’t… Don’t leave… don’t stop, please, I just…” her head fell forward against his broad, barrel chest and she inhaled deeply. Woodsmoke, the clean smell of green wood shavings, the sweetness of sun-dried hay, and something unnameable and pleasantly sharp that was uniquely Blackwall. The scent of him was as comforting as it was electrifying. Her mind warred with her heart and both warred against her body. _What the hell, Cadash? You baited him, you egged him on, you want him! What are you doing?_ She let out a tormented moan against his chest. 

“Maighread.” Blackwall curled his index finger under her chin, applying just enough pressure to make her look up at him. Her eyes met his, the colours of storm and sky and sea, and her heart tripped in her chest. For a long moment, he simply held her eyes with his… then his hands returned to her hips and pulled her closer to him. 

“I’m not going anywhere. But I shouldn’t be _here_. It’s late and you’re alone. It isn’t right for a lady such as yourself. It’s inappropriate.”

A low whine escaped her throat as the press of his hips on hers brought her flush against his hardness, the unabashed admission of his intense desire dulling the blow of his words. “ _Fuck_ inappropriate!” 

Blackwall threw his head back as he let out short, husky laugh. She surprised him, always, and he adored her for it. “Or perhaps ‘wench’ is a better word for you,” he couldn’t resist teasing her, and her reluctant half-smile was his undoing. 

“Nevertheless, love…” He kissed her so gently that it stole her breath. It felt like a goodbye kiss. 

_No. Oh please, how can I fix this?_

“I must take my leave now, or…” Blackwall’s throat moved visibly as he swallowed. “My lady, as ashamed as I am to speak so baldly, my control can only last so long and I would not rut you against a stairwell railing for our first night together.” _Oh, Maker._ His words made her weak in the knees. _But I want you to rut me!_ How could she ever make him understand how much she wanted him? She didn’t care about her first time being some kind of event. She didn’t care about anything other than being fucked by this kind, beautiful, solid rock of a man. 

Blackwall suddenly closed his eyes and groaned low in his throat. “Maker, Maighread, do you know what you look like right now? The _want_ written all over your face.” He dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Mouth made for kissing. For-…” The unbidden image of that mouth taking his cock deep jolted him and this time he did release her, stepping back hastily and snatching his gloves off the couch. 

“Your affections humble me, my lady, and I will not press an advantage I have not yet earned. Goodnight.” He was around the corner and down the stairs before she could form a single word. 

Maighread hugged herself and sank down onto the couch. She brought her knees up to her chest and sat there, staring into the fire for long hours. She relived the entire encounter in her head, replayed every word of their conversation, and thought of a hundred different places she could have said the words he had a right to hear. She cursed her clumsiness with him. How was it she could be so smooth with commanders and nobles alike and yet so lost when it came to _him?_ She let her thoughts tangle and unravel until the fire died down to the last embers. When at last even those had gone dark against the greying light of pre-dawn, she crawled into the bed and huddled under the covers, seeking the refuge of dreamless sleep. 


End file.
